


Made for the Drift

by TheSopherfly



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Pacific Rim (2013), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Drift Compatibility, Explicit Sexual Content, Jaeger Pilots, Kaiju (Pacific Rim), M/M, Mentions of PTSD, Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers, Scars, The Drift (Pacific Rim)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-09-20 01:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9468479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSopherfly/pseuds/TheSopherfly
Summary: “Beautiful,” Bucky says to himself. He won’t ever admit it to Steve - although really it doesn’t matter, because Steve knows anyway - but he’s obsessed with Jaegers. Not with their construction or their mechanics, but with their size, their power. The way they feel.~Bucky and Steve are shipped to Sydney, sent to find new copilots after a mission gone wrong. Bucky desperately needs to get back inside a Jaeger - and so does Tony Stark.





	1. Chasing the Rabbit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve are transferred to Sydney. Bucky meets someone who might just have all the answers he's looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: No explicit content in this chapter. (Look out for it in Chapter 2!)

  

  **Kaiju** : Giant beast. 

**Jaeger** : Hunter.

  

_...to fight monsters, we created monsters of our own. The Jaeger program was born._

_There were setbacks at first. The neural load to interface with a Jaeger proved too much for a single pilot. A two-pilot system was implemented. Left-hemisphere, right-hemisphere pilot control. We started winning - Jaegers stopping Kaijus everywhere._

_But the Jaegers were only as good as their pilots._

 

~

Bucky’s gear still fits him perfectly.

This is the old suit, the dark grey one with the star over the left shoulder. It reminds him of the old days; of taking out category-twos in five clean hits. He looks down at his hands, then looks over at Steve. He’s in the old suit too, and Bucky feels almost nostalgic. He misses it, misses the drift, misses that connection with his best friend. Maybe this time, it’ll hold.

“Okay, boys. You’ve got this. Just don’t engage - stay in the drift." 

Maria says it every time, but that doesn't make it any easier, not after an accident like theirs. Still, Bucky ought to be grateful. He's lucky to be outfitted with a prosthetic arm. He's lucky to be alive at all. He should be thankful that he and Steve get a chance to try again, even if their Jaeger is at the bottom of the ocean.

“You got it,” Bucky says, eyes still on Steve, trying to get a read on him. His friend’s face is impassive, but Bucky has a feeling that he’s nervous. He’ll know soon enough, either way.

“Initiating neural handshake,” comes the automated voice from above them.

“You ready?” Bucky asks.

Steve just nods, closing his eyes as the countdown drops to three, two, one.

The images flash in his mind’s eye. His childhood. Steve before the serum. Steve after. The Asset. Fury’s recruitment speech. Their first time in a Jaeger. Their first kill.

And then Bucky sees his own face, contorted in pain. He watches it pass, but Steve doesn't let go - he's out of phase. They fall together into the memory.

They’ve been fighting this Kaiju for ten minutes. Category three, but it's a big one. Even though Howler is a small Jaeger, she makes up for her size with her speed. They're fast, and they're gaining the advantage, pressing the monster back further and further from the coastline.

“Gettin’ tired?” Steve asks, and Bucky grins, shaking his head.

“Not a chance, Stevie.”

They sink a punch into the monster’s chest, the repulsor blasting it backward. It disappears from view. Bucky scans the water, feels Steve searching too, but the ocean is too dark, the water moving too fast. Suddenly the monster lunges toward them. Bucky’s not quick enough to block. The Kaiju grabs the shoulder and latches on, teeth digging into the metal, breaching the hull and clamping down.

The drift explodes, pain searing through their shared connection. Bucky looks to his left and sees both arms are gone, his and Howler’s, and he doesn’t have time to mourn the loss. The Kaiju drives its tail into the Jaeger’s side, and they pitch off balance, then fall. Water hits his lungs, hard as concrete, cold as ice. He blacks out.

He jolts awake to the sound of alarm bells, the neural handshake broken.

Bucky takes stock. Prosthetic arm. Steve beside him, alive and breathing. Air comes in, air goes out, and Bucky’s chest rises and falls. No water.

He remembers, then, that it’s just a simulation. Bucky tears his helmet off, throwing it to the floor.

“Damn it,” Bucky gasps, his throat still raw as if he’s underwater. He breathes hard, his fists clenched, his shoulders tight. It’s the same as last time. He flashes back just for an instant to that ill-fated mission, and Steve latches on and follows it until they’re both trapped.

He’s so tired of this, of his memories dragging them down into the rabbit hole. At this rate, they’ll never be cleared for combat, not if they can’t even make it through a calibration. He looks at Steve, who removes his helmet slowly, disappointment drawing blonde brows together.

“I’m sorry." 

His friend looks devastated, and Bucky feels helpless. He can’t think of one comforting thing to say. 

“It's not your fault.”

“Yes it is." Steve runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “You can’t help what comes out in the drift. But… I see you screaming and I just lose it.”

Bucky doesn’t even remember screaming. Steve feels this memory so much harder than he does, probably still has nightmares about it. He won’t call it PTSD, but that’s what it is. This is their _fifth time_ trying to drift after the accident, and Bucky’s not sure he can do it again. It’s exhausting, trying to pull Steve out. For some reason, when he’s confronted with that trauma, even for a second, Steve cracks under the weight of it.

“I don’t think it’s gonna stop, Steve,” Bucky says, lowering himself onto the bench.

“You’re right.” Steve sighs, shifting on his feet before sitting down beside him. “They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result.”

Bucky huffs a bitter laugh. “Guess that makes us crazy.”

“I don’t regret trying,” Steve assures him. “I’m sorry, though.”

“For what?”

“This might be the end of the line for us.” His voice drops to a whisper. “I know how much you love being a Jaeger pilot.”

Steve isn’t wrong. He’s been drifting with Bucky for years. They have no secrets. Piloting these stupid robots is the only thing that’s ever given Bucky purpose.

“I loved the Howler,” Bucky replies. “Not sure another boat would ever be the same.”

“Boys,” Maria interrupts, the intercom loud and jarring. “Director Fury is here to see you.”

They look at each other, both thinking the same thing: maybe the end of the line is _now_. Bucky stands, picks up his helmet, and follows Steve out of the simulator.

They strip their gear and head to the training room, silent as the elevator carries them quickly up the fifteen floors. When the doors slide open, Steve steps out first, and Bucky trails behind, bracing himself for what he assumes will be a brief but unpleasant conversation.

“So,” Fury says, “Miss Hill tells me that you two are no longer drift compatible. Too many shared traumatic memories. Am I right?”

“Yes, sir,” Steve says, looking defeated. It’s the first time Steve has admitted it out loud. Maybe this really _is_ the end of the line.

“You probably think I’m here to terminate your contracts,” Fury continues. “I’m not.”

Bucky sees a glimmer of hope flash across Steve’s face, mirrored in the spike of Bucky’s pulse. “Then why are you here?” Bucky asks.

“Australia has been hit hard recently. We’ve had a high concentration of Kaiju attacks, and we’re in need of a few good pilots.” He gives them a look. “So, gentlemen. How would you like to take a little trip?”

~

The ten hour flight from Tokyo to Sydney passes without incident. Bucky spends the majority of the trip sleeping, then Steve nudges him awake to read about the Sydney dome in the hour before they land. From the private airport, they take a helicopter up into the hills. On the descent toward the helipad, it starts to rain.

“You okay?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah. Just thinking,” Steve says, staring out the window. Bucky watches the water stream down the glass, sees the dome come into view through the downpour. “What if this doesn’t work?”

“Steve. These are the best pilots in the world. If you’re compatible with anyone else, odds are they’ll be in there.”

Steve nods, taking in a deep breath. “What about you? What if you can’t find a copilot?”

“I’ll live,” Bucky says with a shrug.

They each brace themselves as the helicopter lands, and Bucky grabs an umbrella, opening it above them when they step out onto the asphalt. Fury leads them inside, and Bucky doesn’t look up until he’s shaken the water off the umbrella and snapped it closed.

What he sees makes his jaw drop.

The dome is massive. It must be at least three times larger than their little base in Tokyo. They’re surrounded by Jaegers on all sides. He counts them, one, two, three, four, _five_ , just in this main bay, and he knows from his reading that there are ten bays total. He’s never seen this many in one place before, and he stares up, taking them all in. The arc-reactors glow white instead of blue, like Howler’s had. Upgrades, maybe? Newer tech?

He gets his bearings and notices that Fury and Steve are far ahead of him. Bucky jogs to catch up. By the time he rejoins them, they’re greeted by a woman in black fatigues.

“This is Natasha Romanov,” Fury says. Natasha nods to each of them in turn, falling in line beside Bucky as they pass through the center of the dome.

“It’s nice to see some new talent,” she says. “Hope you’re ready to be put through your paces.”

They keep moving, passing so close to the red and gold Jaeger that when Bucky looks up, it towers over him, bent forward in a familiar but strange optical illusion. He sees sparks fly and notices someone standing on a crane just below the Jaeger’s arm. Technician? Mechanic?

“Who’s that?” Bucky asks, curious.

“That’s Tony Stark.”

_Tony Stark._ The creator of the arc-reactor, the one and only authority on Jaeger design and construction. He remembers seeing ‘Stark’ emblazoned on the tags of his gear, carved into the hull of the Howler. This man is the engineer, the genius behind the entire Jaeger program. He hadn’t expected someone with such a reputation to look so… scrappy. Bucky is surprised when the word _handsome_ pops into his mind.

“He works on these things himself?”

“Insists he have a hand in all aspects of production,” Fury replies. “You’ll get a chance to meet him later, if he ever decides to take a break.”

“Classic workaholic,” Natasha says in his ear.

“I see." Bucky keeps his gaze trained on Stark as they move into the hall.

Fury leads them to the elevator, and they end up in the control room, where he introduces them to Bruce Banner. Bruce, Fury explains, operates control, but also happens to be a doctor, and he’s usually in charge of overseeing medical care whenever a pilot is injured.

“Two birds with one stone,” Bruce says.

“He’s a man of many talents,” Natasha adds.

They leave Bruce, and Fury abandons them to go to a meeting. Natasha guides them to their quarters, one-person rooms directly across from each other on the lower level.

“Fury says you’re supposed to take the rest of the day to recoup,” Natasha tells them. “Your things are already inside. So… rest. Explore. Don’t get into trouble. Fury will send you both an itinerary for tomorrow.”

She gives them a half-salute, then disappears around the corner.

~

Bucky’s room is simple. Twin bed off to the right, mirror on the back of the door, desk to the left, and a small bathroom with a single-person standing shower. The walls aren’t beige, but aren’t quite white, either; the bedspread is a heather green; the bathroom tiles are various shades of blue. His bags are laid out next to the desk, and he considers unpacking, then thinks better of it, collapsing on his bed instead.

Bucky stares at the ceiling, wide awake. He’s relieved to find that at least the mattress is comfortable. 

Exploring. Natasha had said he could go exploring, right?

He stands up and examines himself in the mirror. He only looks a little disheveled, not bad after a ten hour plane ride. He runs a hand through his hair, then decides to tie it back into a bun. Once he thinks he’s presentable enough, he steps out of his room, closing the door behind him and turning to the left with no clear idea where he’s going.

Somehow he finds his way up to the main bay, although it’s not surprising that he’s been drawn back to admire the Jaeger tech. He stands in the doorway a moment, staring up.

“Beautiful,” he says to himself. He won’t ever admit it to Steve - although really it doesn’t matter, because Steve knows anyway - but he’s obsessed with Jaegers. Not with their construction or their mechanics, but with their size, their power. The way they _feel_.

He moves to inspect the blue Jaeger, the one that looks like it has a hunchback. Bucky could swear they each have a distinct personality. He wonders if that makes him crazy, then realizes he doesn’t care. Bucky looks up again, taking a few steps back, trying to get a better look at the mech’s face. 

“Whoa, hey-” he hears, but it’s too late. He’s already backed straight into someone, knocking them off balance, spilling what look like sketches all over the floor. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says, embarrassed, bending down immediately to help. “Got distracted.”

“I might be offended if I hadn’t actually designed what distracted you." When they stand up at the same time, their eyes meet, and Bucky freezes when he realizes just who he’s almost bowled over.

“You’re Tony Stark,” Bucky says, and Stark gives him an appraising look, smiling as he takes the papers and stuffs them into his messenger bag.

“Yes I am. And you’re Bucky Barnes. The pleasure’s mine.”

Bucky hears innuendo in those words, sees it sparkling in Stark’s brown eyes. He extends his arm and they shake hands.

“You know my name?” Bucky asks.

“Of course I do, gorgeous. I know all about you. You’re the only pilot in history to bounce back after sustaining an injury like that.” He gestures to Bucky’s prosthetic arm, and Bucky frowns.

“I’d hardly call it bouncin’ back.”

“You look pretty good to me,” Stark says easily.

Bucky feels his cheeks heat under Stark’s appreciative gaze. He's _flirting_. Bucky’s tongue darts out to lick his lips, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I’m no use to anyone without a drift partner," Bucky evades.

“First, I highly doubt that. Second, we’re having tryouts for your copilot tomorrow. Didn’t Fury send you the schedule?”

“I haven’t looked." 

“Well, sorry I spoiled it for you.” Stark gives Bucky a once-over, and when he meets Bucky's eyes, there’s something more than just interest there, something that looks like a devious idea. “Maybe I’ll come watch.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “What interest do you have in drift compatibility tests?”

“Funny.” A knowing smile tugs at one corner of Stark’s mouth. “When I heard you were being shipped out here, I did my research. You clearly didn’t do yours.”

Bucky gets no time to formulate a response, because Stark turns away, crossing the few yards to the elevator and pressing the button. As he steps inside and the doors begin to close, he says, “Look me up, Buckaroo. I promise, it’s a fascinating read.”

Stark winks, and then he’s gone - he couldn’t have timed it any more perfectly. He delivers the last line right before the doors slide shut. It gives Bucky the feeling that at some point in his life, Tony Stark must’ve been a serious drama queen. 

~

_Look me up_.

Bucky can’t get the words out of his head, even after walking around the bay for an hour, even after going for a jog once he’d found the gym.

As he returns to his room and closes the door, the whole conversation plays on repeat in his mind.

_You’re Bucky Barnes._

How had Stark known his name? Once upon a time, Jaeger pilots had been famous, equivalent to rockstars. But no one in the public domain knew Bucky had been a pilot. The Asset had been a risk, and if HYDRA had known he was still alive, they would’ve come for him. According to Fury, Bucky had been too invaluable to the program to allow that to happen. So his identity had been kept entirely under wraps. Classified. There’s no merchandise with Bucky’s face. There are no interviews where he’s represented, no reports where he or Steve are mentioned as anything other than “the Howler pilots,” or in a few cases, “the Howling Commandos.” So how does Tony Stark know exactly who he is, enough to call him ‘Buckaroo’ without batting an eye?

Maybe he has access to classified files. Probably. Someone as smart as Stark has likely hacked the Pentagon for fun. Bucky has no choice but to assume that Stark knows every detail, every technique he’s been taught, every kill he’s made, every virtue and every vice.

It’s not fair that Stark knows all that and Bucky knows so little. And that’s how Bucky finds himself on his computer, searching through the overwhelming mine of information on the internet about Anthony Edward Stark.

Genius, extremely intelligent from a young age. Son of Howard Stark, weapons producer. Kidnapped shortly after the attack on Manila, the third category-one. Developed Jaeger technology in an underground bunker with a bunch of scraps. Flew many missions solo until the dual interface was developed. Bucky gets drawn into the hairy details, the politics of Stark’s life before the Jaeger program, the story of his parents’ deaths.

He’s interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Hey,” Steve says as Bucky lets him in. “Busy?”

“Sorta." Bucky sits back down at his computer. “Just doing some research.”

Steve leans over his shoulder, scanning the screen. “Tony Stark?”

“Yeah. I ran into him today, literally.” 

“Must’ve made an impression,” Steve says, pulling up the extra chair and sitting beside him.

“Guess so,” Bucky replies, because it’s true. Here Bucky is, knee deep in another biography, all because Stark had said ‘look me up.’

“You get Fury’s message about the tests?”

“Yeah.” Bucky turns around to face him. “You nervous?” 

Steve shrugs his shoulders. “Just worried, I think. Hoping we didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.”

Bucky nods, aware that Steve’s thoughts are mirrored on his face. After seeing all those Jaegers, Bucky’s more than worried, the dread a deadweight in his stomach. If he can’t drift again, he’ll be heartbroken. He doesn’t say it out loud. He knows he doesn’t need to; he knows Steve feels the same.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

~ 

The compatibility tests start early. Steve goes first, and Bucky reluctantly agrees not to watch, because as Steve points out, he might be a distraction. Bucky takes his time getting ready, shampooing his hair twice under the cold water, debating between green fatigues and black. When he makes it to the training area, he finds that Steve is already finished, standing off to the side with Natasha.

And that's when he notices Stark.

He’s facing off with another man, presumably one of Bucky’s opponents. At first Bucky’s irritated, because he doesn’t want someone else tiring out recruits before they fight with _him_. Then, as he watches, he becomes… captivated. Stark isn’t just a genius. He’s a fighter. A good one, surprisingly agile for someone his age. Bucky realizes after just a few steps that Stark’s not fighting this ranger. He’s _messing_ with him. It reminds him of a person who, dissatisfied with his opponent’s skill, decides to play chess against himself.

This goes on for longer than it should, and Bucky doesn’t stop it, because he’s too engaged. He analyzes Stark’s style, sees how he calculates each movement with precision, finding ample time to plan his next attack even within the fast pace of the fight. Finally, Stark claims a win, and Bucky sees the moment when Stark notices him.

“Hey, Bucky-bear,” Stark calls with a grin.

Bucky feels something when he hears that, but he doesn’t know what. Annoyance? Yes, but something else, too, something that makes him want to shut Stark up, to cover that obnoxious mouth with his own.

“What’re you doing?” Bucky demands.

“I was warming them up for you,” Tony replies. Bucky hears ‘them’ and can only assume this ranger is the last of many. Stark steps boldly into Bucky’s personal space, familiar, irreverent. Bucky’s struck by a desire to take that boldness and bend it backward into submission.

“You're just playin’ with ’em." 

“If I didn’t, they’d all lose so fast it wouldn’t be any fun.”

Damn, but Tony Stark is cocky.

“It didn’t say anywhere in your biography that you had such a big ego,” Bucky says.

“Ooh, so you took my advice, huh?”

“Just wanted to even things out. Didn’t realize you were a pilot.”

“The very first,” Stark replies. “Look Barnes. You’re intelligent - you probably see this for exactly what it is.”

The Asset is trained to recognize intentions, to determine motivation, to exploit weakness. He knows what Stark wants. He’s walked right into it. “You want me to fight you.”

Stark looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Exactly.”

“Why?”

“Do I have to have a reason?” Stark asks, backing slowly away. “Maybe it’s because you intrigue me.”

Bucky can't help but take the bait. Fury’s nowhere to be found; can it really hurt, giving Stark a run for his money while they wait?

“What happens if we’re drift compatible?”

“Then we drift,” Stark says, already looking like he’s won.

Bucky takes his jacket off and steps onto the mat, picking up the wooden rod and testing the weapon in his hand. It’s heavier than Bucky’s used to, but nothing he can’t work with. Stark assesses him, brown eyes calculating. Bucky knows that he should have the advantage, since he’s just watched Stark fight. He underestimates Stark’s speed, throws a blow that leaves him open for just an instant. Stupid mistake. Stark’s weapon stops just before it hits his ribs.

“One-zero,” Stark says with a quirk of his eyebrow. “Gee, Barnes. I thought you were at least going to make this _challenging_.”

Bucky clenches his jaw and backs up, resetting himself. He can't let Stark get to him. He just needs to focus.

He watches Stark, sees the strike come at his head and blocks, then flips the rod under and jabs at Stark’s chin.

“One-one,” Bucky growls, and Stark’s smile only fuels his irritation. He backs up again, tapping the weapon on the floor before resetting.

Stark comes at him fast, going for his head, then his knee. He blocks only to find the wooden rod slipping behind his legs and knocking him off his feet. Bucky lands on his ass and his elbows, Stark’s weapon at his throat.

“Two-one,” Stark says, a fierce grin on his face. Bucky levers himself up from the ground, grabbing the stick in his metal hand.

“You must think you’re somethin’ else,” Bucky says, swinging toward him again - but Stark is still too fast, and he somehow rolls between Bucky's legs, coming out the other side with the wood hovering above the back of Bucky’s head.

“Three-one,” Stark replies. “And I don’t think. I know.”

Bucky needs a new tactic. Stark is too fast to beat with force. He'll have to outmaneuver him instead. He waits, bides his time, standing completely still until Stark moves forward, unable to stand still any longer. Bucky takes his opportunity, sliding behind Stark and hooking a leg around his shin. Stark stumbles, then drops to the ground, rolling from his knees to his back. Bucky lands squarely on top of him, straddling his hips, holding the stick across Stark’s throat. Three-two.

“Don’t get cocky,” Bucky warns.

“Got it,” Stark says, looking surprised for just an instant before his gaze grows sharp.

When Bucky lets Stark up and breaks away, Stark comes after him, throwing a volley of hits that Bucky blocks purely on reflex. It takes too long, but he finally gets the opening he's looking for. Stark’s grip is carelessly loose, and Bucky knocks his weapon out of his hands. 

“Three-three,” Bucky says smugly, and he can see Stark bristle.

Stark regains his weapon and changes tack, circling, evaluating instead of jumping in. Bucky watches carefully. Stark telegraphs with a small step forward on his left, and Bucky blocks, swinging behind him.

Something changes when they turn to face each other. Bucky hits left and Stark blocks. Stark hits right and Bucky dodges. They start to anticipate. Bucky forgets about winning, totally zoned in, one with his weapon and his partner. It goes on like this for ten seconds - twenty. They’re locked together in the dance, one movement flowing into the next as if every breath has been choreographed. Time disappears, seconds becoming hours becoming days. It feels just like the drift: quiet, alive, thrumming with nothing but the two of them.

Stark goes for a headshot, and Bucky abandons his own weapon to grab the wood with both hands, stopping him dead. They freeze, looking at each other, bodies heaving.

“I’ve seen enough,” Fury says, startling them both.

Bucky releases his grip, and the rod falls to the floor. Stark blinks, but doesn’t move, the bravado gone from his face. He’s open, vulnerable. He looks almost stunned, but there's something else, too. Something hopeful.

“Barnes. I believe we’ve found your copilot.” Fury steps down onto the mat, his eye fixed on Stark. “Don’t make me regret this.”

Stark shakes his head. “I won’t.”

“Good. I’ll schedule you both for your simulation. Until then, you are all dismissed.” 

Bucky watches him go, waits for the room to disperse. He notices belatedly that Steve is still standing on the sidelines, too. His friend nods at him and follows Fury out.

“Well. Guess that makes us partners,” Bucky says, still feeling out of breath. 

“Yeah,” Stark replies. “I guess it does.”

~

Fury schedules their simulation for the following day. Bucky barely sleeps, kept awake by nerves and doubt. Are he and Stark really compatible? Is Stark someone he can trust? He keeps imagining that look, the hopeful glimmer he’d seen in Stark’s eyes when Fury had stopped their fight. The Asset goes straight to worst-case-scenario: Stark had researched him, planned their first meeting, planned to trick him into fighting. He’d wanted back into a Jaeger, and he’d singled Bucky out as his most likely means to that end.

Bucky sits up on his bed cross-legged, running a hand through his hair. That’s not an impossible thought. Not even an improbable one. If Stark is as smart as nearly everyone claims he is, it makes sense. Bucky knows from experience that a person will do close to anything for a second chance at living in the drift. He’s never met _anyone_ who didn’t want back in a Jaeger.

It’s early, stupidly early, when Bucky decides to confront Stark. He doesn’t want to go into their simulation confused or doubtful. He’d rather get everything out in the open ahead of time. Surprises in the drift only increase a person’s risk of chasing the rabbit. He finds Stark in his workshop near the control room. The door is open, and Bucky steps inside, announcing himself by clearing his throat.

“Stark?”

“Tony,” he corrects. “Call me Tony.”

“Okay. Tony.” Bucky takes a deep breath. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony replies, barely looking up from his work. 

Bucky stands there watching him until the silence becomes too much for Tony, and he sets down his pencil with a sigh. “You don’t want to drift,” Tony guesses. “That’s why you’re here, right? Rejection time. I get it, I’ve been there before. It’s not me, it’s you, blah blah blah.”

“It’s not a rejection,” Bucky says, and Tony blinks in surprise.

“Oh.” Tony gives him a quizzical look. “Are you sure? You have the ‘I’m about to break up with you’ face.” 

Bucky shakes his head in answer.

“Okay. So what’s the problem?” Tony asks.

“How d’you figure there's a problem?”

“Like I said. The face.”

Bucky walks around the work table to stare out into the dome. “That ‘meet cute’ or whatever you want to call it. That was planned. It was all planned, wasn’t it?”

“Not the part with you running into me, that was a total accident,” Tony replies. “But yes. Our first meeting, the compatibility test - all orchestrated by yours truly.”

“Why?" 

“Because I evaluated all my options and found that you were my best shot of getting back into a Jaeger.”

It’s exactly what he’d thought. Bucky finds he can’t blame Tony for it, because he wants the same thing, longs desperately to be back inside one of those machines.

“You knew you could get me to fight you.”

“Yeah, I may have tried to goad you into it by being extra irritating. I will say, though, a lot of that was just me being myself.” Tony gives him a mildly embarrassed smile.

Bucky crosses his arms, surprised at Tony’s honesty. “You knew we would be drift compatible.”

“I didn’t know. I suspected.”

“How could you suspect something like that without ever having met me?”

Tony sighs, reaching for his tablet. “Let me show you something." Tony sets the tablet down on the table, and it projects a video onto the wall. Bucky stares, entranced, as he watches the red and gold Jaeger, the one currently standing in the bay outside, taking on what looks like the first of the category-twos. 

“What is this?”

“Just watch,” Tony replies.

Bucky remembers seeing pictures of this Kaiju in the papers. It looks a little like a bird, its face pinched, a massive beak like the horn of a narwhal protruding from its skull. The Jaeger is holding its own, evenly matched in size and weight. It delivers an upper-cut, knocking the Kaiju back and keeping it down with a repulsor blast. Another repulsor blast, and the thing looks dead. It doesn’t move, its body limp on the ground. The Jaeger takes a triumphant step forward-

The Kaiju jumps up, suddenly very much alive, and drives its beak straight into the arc-reactor. Bucky gasps as the light flickers out. The Jaeger sputters and dies, folding in half with a sickening groan and crashing to the ground.

Bucky’s heart keeps pounding after the video stops. It reminds him so much of his own catastrophic loss that he’s surprised it doesn’t trigger a flashback. This is the reason Tony's chosen him. This is their connection. _This_ is what makes them compatible. They’ve both felt the same pain, sustained the same heavy damage. They’ve both experienced the devastation of being inside a Jaeger when it dies.

“Shit,” Bucky says, feeling shell-shocked. He lowers himself into a chair, finding he can’t stay upright any longer, the breath knocked out of him. “This isn't - how have I never seen this?”

“It's old. Only exists because the helicopter happened to be in the right place at the right time. It was never released to the public because someone decided seeing a Jaeger taken down would, as they put it, incite a panic.”

“Shit,” Bucky says again.

“Yeah,” Tony replies. “The reports make it seem like they benched me because I was an insurance risk. Really, it was this.”

“D’you have scars?”

“One big one, right here." Tony presses his palm into his sternum. “Even though it never actually touched me.”

Bucky thinks about his own scars, the ones on his shoulder, the ones on his side. He’s suddenly ready to forgive Tony’s self-assuredness, willing to overlook whatever manipulation brought them to be potential drift partners, because he and Tony are the same. For the first time, Bucky isn’t the only one who’s taken a hit and tried to keep going. He’s not alone.

“Steve was in the Jaeger with me. Why didn’t you pick him?”

“Captain goody-goody?” Tony raises his eyebrows in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, he seems like a nice enough guy. Maybe too nice.”

“So you singled me out because I’m not nice?”

“I singled you out because on top of this, this very important thing we have in common, I found you _interesting_. I look at you and I have this gut reaction, something telling me, ‘pursue him.’ I don’t get that feeling very often.”

Bucky considers him, leaning back in his chair. “Okay. I’ll drift with you.”

Tony doesn’t expect that, Bucky can tell, because his mouth opens but no sound comes out. It takes him a few seconds to respond. “Really?”

Tony looks so hopeful, and Bucky feels his own chest tighten in response.

“Well. You went to all this trouble,” Bucky says, and that makes Tony smile.

“Thank you, Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he corrects. “Call me Bucky. When you’re not usin’ a pet name, anyway.”

“Do you not like that? Because I can stop-”

“No,” Bucky replies. “No, it’s fine. I like it.”

Tony takes that in and gets a twinkle in his eye. “Yeah?” 

“Don’t let it go to your head."

“Whatever you say, gorgeous.”

Bucky lets silence fall between them, then asks, because he’s honestly curious: “So you build them. You name ’em all?”

The look on Tony’s face says ‘are you seriously asking me that question?’ Bucky stands and walks back to the window.

“Well? Wanna introduce me?”

Tony steps up beside him, close enough that their hands almost brush. “That’s Igor,” Tony says, pointing at the bulky blue mech. “The white one is Gemini. Shotgun’s the one that looks like an alien, and Thumper is that one there, with the battering-rams for hands.”

“What about that one?” Bucky points to the red and gold Jaeger.

“That’s Heartbreaker,” Tony says, his voice reverent. 

“She’s your favorite.”

“My one and only,” Tony admits. “When I rebuilt her, I modified her to support two pilots, just so I might have a shot with her again.”

“She’s beautiful." 

“She’s the one who set me straight,” Tony replies. “Before the Jaeger program, I was kind of an asshole.”

“Oh?” Bucky doesn't say more, waits for Tony to explain. 

“Yeah. Hell, you probably read about it. Billionaire, playboy, irresponsible genius who claimed his weapons could stop Kaijus.” Tony rubs a hand over his beard, and Bucky watches the frown lines on his face deepen. “I was so cocky. More than I am now, if you can believe that. But being part of something so much bigger than me… It sort of ironed me out.”

“You and I have that in common, too." 

“We do?”

“You haven't - sorry, I… I thought you read my file.”

“I started to. I got through your Jaeger history. That’s it.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“Your past is your business. I had invaded your privacy enough.” 

Bucky looks at him, tries to read him, but Tony’s expression is carefully blank.

“If we’re gonna drift, I might as well tell you anyway,” Bucky says, his voice low. “I was a HYDRA operative. Not by choice. Sometimes part of a kill squad, sometimes an independent agent. It was my job to neutralize threats with lethal force. I was disturbingly good at it. The Asset, that’s what they called me. Operated under the radar for years. Then one day I got myself caught. Not my fault, someone else’s mistake, but I’m the one who ended up in a SHIELD prison. Steve got me out, convinced Fury to give us a go in the Jaeger. You know the rest.”

“Does all that come out in the drift?”

“Always does.” Bucky looks at the ground. “I remember all of them.”

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up for it,” Tony replies, then rolls his eyes at himself. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“Doesn't matter though, does it? Long as we use our guilt for something good.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, you're right,” Tony says. “And I’d say putting down Kaijus is pretty high up there on the list of good things we could be doing.”

Bucky nods in agreement.

~

The simulation armor is old, the white plastic stuff that was used when category twos had just started appearing out of the breach. It’s not perfectly fitted, but it’ll do the job; it’s not about the armor, anyway. This simulation isn’t even about combat. It’s about connection, seeing if his mind and Tony’s will join up in the drift.

Even in the stupid white plastic, Tony looks good. Bucky has to remind himself that this man is his drift partner and nothing else. It’s not appropriate to think about what that beard might feel like on his skin, or whether those lips are as soft as he imagines.

Bucky pops his helmet on and steps onto his platform. The tubing behind him starts to connect, and he knows Bruce sees the telemetry, knows how nervous Bucky is by the quick flutter of his heart.

“I’ve never actually been in the simulator,” Tony says, snapping his helmet into place and rolling his shoulders. “Is it different?”

“Not much,” Bucky replies. “Just no power behind it. You can feel that it’s not a real Jaeger. But the drift is the same.” 

“Okay, guys,” Bruce says over the intercom. “Bucky, you know the drill - Tony, this is new for you, so relax and try not to think too hard until the connection is solid. Copy?”

“Copy,” they say in unison.

“All right. Here we go."

The panel between them lights up as Bruce gives the system the go-ahead.

“Just be prepared,” Bucky says. “I always make Steve chase the rabbit.” 

“Don’t worry, hot stuff. I’m great at not chasing rabbits.” 

Bucky decides he probably likes these pet names a little too much.

“Initiating neural handshake,” comes the familiar voice. 

“You ready?” Bucky asks.

“Born ready,” Tony replies.

“Three, two, one.”

All at once, they disappear into the drift.

The change is immediate, the force of the connection knocking Bucky’s head back. Images flood his mind - some of the memories belong to him, and some of them are Tony’s, but they flash by so fast he can’t grab on, and he doesn’t try to.

The drift is a two way street. Information passes back and forth, and in an instant he knows every one of Tony’s secrets, everything he’s ever tried to hide. He feels the strong desire to please a father who will never approve; remembers the agony of seeing a childhood home eviscerated by Kaiju Blue. Bucky’s memories bubble up, too. The torture, the kills, every second spent as the Asset, controlled and manipulated, forced into submission. 

Predictably, he flashes to the moment when the arm tears away from him and Howler’s lights go out. Bucky half expects to follow that all the way down, but it doesn’t happen. The barrage starts to dissipate, and when the link settles, it’s like he and Tony have combined into someone completely new. He opens his eyes as if he’s seeing, _really_ seeing, for the first time, surrounded by the steady hum of the drift.

_Wow_ , Tony thinks, and the amazement hits Bucky hard, crawls inside him until it’s his own.

_Yeah_ , he agrees.

“Left arm calibrating,” Bruce says in their ears. He feels it in his head and in his body when Tony draws the elbow back. “Right arm calibrating.” This one’s Bucky’s, and Tony moves with him as he rotates his shoulder. “Okay… Wow. You’re good. Connection holding strong.”

A grin splits Bucky’s face in half, and Tony smiles too.

“Why don’t you try the repulsor? Just to see how she handles,” Bruce says.

Bucky and Tony raise their right arms at the same time. It’s not real, Bucky knows it’s just the simulator, but he feels power behind the gesture, an open channel of electricity flowing between the two of them.

“Repulsor powering on,” says the automated voice.

It’s different, not seeing it, not having a target, but not so different that it feels any less like a victory. Bucky imagines the Kaiju in front of them, sees the same monster in Tony’s mind’s eye. They drive the repulsor forward and roast it. It burns, dies, disappears into the water.

“Yep. Super compatible,” Tony says out loud.

“You don’t have to talk, you know,” Bucky replies. _I’m inside your head. I already hear everything._

_So I just think it, and-_  

_I hear it. Y_ _eah._

They stand there, floating in the drift, listening to each other inside the silence. It’s quiet, and perfect, filling every empty space. Tony’s mind is strong and present, more generous than Bucky had expected, so much bolder than Steve had ever been. Bucky wonders if he’s doing his part, worries that Tony is carrying too much of the weight. 

_Don’t sell yourself short_ , Tony thinks. _There’s plenty of you in here, too._

“I’m gonna pull the plug now,” Bruce says, interrupting the trance. “Brace yourselves.”

It comes as a harsh shock when Tony is torn away from him, ripped painfully from his consciousness like a plant pulled up from the ground, its roots still gripping hopelessly at the soil. Bucky feels suddenly cold and empty. Where Tony had been, there’s a vast ocean of black, nothingness, stretching on forever in the corners of his mind. Residual adrenaline overloads Bucky’s system, and he takes the helmet off slowly, hands trembling. He glances over at Tony, relieved when he discovers he's not struggling alone.

“T-told you,” Tony stutters, his chest heaving. “I'm great at n-not chasing rabbits.”

Bucky can't find it in himself to smile, can't say anything more. He stares at Tony, frozen, his heart exploding out of his chest. No drift with Steve had _ever_ felt like that.

“That was great, guys. That’s the strongest connection I’ve ever seen,” Bruce says over the comms, affirming what Bucky already knows. “I think you'd be good to take Heartbreaker on a test run.”

“We’re a little, uh,” Tony starts, and Bucky supplies the words in his head - tired, astonished, overwhelmed. “Beat,” Tony finishes, and he supposes that's an adequate response.

“Tomorrow?” Bucky finds himself asking.

“Sure. I can set you up with a dry run tomorrow,” comes Bruce’s reply.

The latch on the door releases, and Bucky stumbles out after Tony, stripping his gear as he goes, dropping it into the basket as soon as they reach the bathroom. He looks up. Tony's still wearing the white plastic suit, and his pupils are blown wide, his face pale.

“That’s not normal, is it?” Tony asks. “That’s not what it’s normally like.” 

“No,” Bucky replies.

With Steve, the drift is logical. It’s nothing earth-shattering. It just makes sense. They’re a team, two individuals who fit well enough together. But with Tony… he’s not sure how to describe it. Everything Bucky isn’t, Tony _is_. They aren’t just people who happen to be compatible. They’re two halves of a whole. They’re made for the drift. They’re made for each other.

Tony finds Bucky’s gaze and holds it, hanging onto him just with his eyes, the pull magnetic. 

“I've never felt anything like that,” Tony breathes.

“Me either.”

The tension between them is palpable; Tony breaks it with a helpless, frustrated noise.

“This is really embarrassing, but can you help me take this off?” he asks.

Bucky notices that Tony's hands are still shaking. He steps close and starts releasing the clasps on the simulation armor, feeling Tony tremble beneath him as Bucky pulls the chest plate off.

“You okay?” Bucky asks when he's finished removing the rest of the gear. Tony nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.”

He’s lying. Bucky takes his hand and guides him over to the bench. “Sit down,” Bucky says, and Tony obeys, elbows on his knees, dropping his head into his hands.

“Sorry. Sorry, shit. Never drifted with another person before.”

“It’s okay." Bucky kneels down in front of Tony, rocking back onto his heels.

“It’s like…” Tony pauses, visibly searching for words. “It’s that feeling when you think there’s one more step, but there isn’t. Can’t find my footing.”

“Here." Bucky reaches out and replaces Tony’s hands with his own, cupping Tony’s face and drawing it forward. He leans in and presses their foreheads together, and Tony closes his eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. “Better?”

“Yes.”

It’s something Bucky's learned from Steve - sometimes touch is the only thing that can bring a person back to reality. Physical contact isn’t as powerful as the drift, but it’s sturdy, something solid to rely on when the mind is still searching for the neural link, going in a thousand different directions. It’s the only reliable anchor when thoughts spiral out of control, trying to carry a person away.

“Sorry,” Tony says again. “Sorry, this is stupid, you don’t have to-” 

“No,” Bucky replies, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t apologize. We’re partners now. We hold this till you’re good.” 

“Okay,” Tony says, calloused hands holding Bucky’s arms gently in place.

It’s how Steve had always been with Bucky when the drift had been too much, when the Asset had tried to take over his mind. It’s burned into Bucky, the idea that the person you drift with is the person you protect at all costs, with no exceptions. If it had been anyone other than Tony, he’d have done the same thing. Bucky can’t help that Tony melts into him, or that they feel like yin and yang, light and dark, perfectly balanced together. He can’t help that he’s caught up in Tony's touch and never wants to let go.

Bucky doesn’t know how long they sit together, the minutes unwinding before them, innumerable. He feels Tony start to relax, senses his eyes opening.

“Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Bucky nods and draws his hands away from Tony’s face, grappling with the urge to pull him closer instead. He waits for Tony to stand, then gets to his feet, following him out into the hall.

“Thank you,” Tony says, his eyes grateful, his voice sincere.

“You’re welcome.”

Somehow they make it to Tony’s door, though Bucky only vaguely remembers walking back, their footfalls echoing through the silence.

“Well. See you tomorrow, gorgeous.”

Some of the old bravado is back, but Tony still sounds shaky, and Bucky wants to reach out and smooth away the frown line between his brows. He offers a small smile instead.

“Goodnight,” Bucky says.

Tony disappears into his room, and Bucky lets out a sigh. It’s just as well. Acting on an attraction to your drift partner is probably something Steve would advise against. And if Steve wouldn’t do it, Bucky probably shouldn’t do it, either.

 

 


	2. Born Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't take our boys long to realize that keeping things professional isn't going to work. Bucky and Tony get called into combat, and then they _finally_ get some alone time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This chapter contains smut! If that's not your thing, skip past the scene right after Bucky says 'yes.' 
> 
> Many thanks to [folklejend](https://folklejend.tumblr.com/) for beta reading this chapter.

 

Bucky can’t sleep.

It’s a problem he’s never had before. The Asset knows how to shut everything down, and while Bucky's a light sleeper - the smallest noise and he's immediately alert - he’s always been able to sleep. At least, until now.

It's almost midnight. Bucky's room isn’t big enough to pace, not really, but he does it anyway, back and forth and back and forth until he’s worried he’ll wear a hole in the floor.

 _It’s nothing,_ he tells himself. _Just a drift hangover. It'll be gone soon._ Drift hangovers always go away; they just take time. The thought isn't comforting at all. Knowing the empty feeling will end doesn't make it ache any less. It feels like knowing you’ve forgotten something important but not being able to remember what. It's like a lost limb that still hurts even though it’s _gone._

“Fuck.”

Bucky rubs his face with his hands. He can do this. He _can._ He can force himself to sleep, and when he wakes up, he’ll feel normal again. The buzzing in his head will disappear. All he needs is a reset.

Of course, he’ll never get to sleep if he can’t stop pacing. Bucky huffs in frustration. The pacing isn't really optional. He has to keep moving, or the terrifying emptiness might consume him. He's going to be up all night, walking the length of the room over and over. Back and forth. Back and forth. He has no idea how long it's been when a knock on his door shocks him out of the trance.

Well. Whoever it is, they'd better not expect much. Bucky's not quite up for company. At least, no company but Tony's, and Tony has already gone to sleep. Finally breaking his back and forth pattern, Bucky heads to the door.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

Bucky’s heart jumps against his ribcage at the sound of Tony’s voice. Not asleep, then. Very much awake, standing in his doorway.

“I, uh - I couldn’t sleep. And I was wondering if maybe you couldn't either.”

 _Damned if you do, damned if you don't,_ Bucky thinks. He can send Tony away and leave them both to handle their restlessness alone, or he can invite Tony inside and risk ruining everything if he can't keep himself in line. This from the man who prides himself on discipline. Something about Tony makes everything Bucky knows about himself unravel.

“Haven’t even sat down,” Bucky says finally. He can't help but drink Tony in, his eyes catching on that little wrinkle between Tony’s brows. Still there. Bucky wants so badly to reach out and make it vanish. “D’you wanna come in?”

There it is. Too late to take it back.

“Sure.” Tony smiles a little lop-sidedly before stepping inside.

~

“Your room is smaller than mine.” Tony offers Bucky a look of apology. “Sorry. Sometimes I don’t have a filter.”

“S’okay,” Bucky says, closing the door behind them. “You’re a genius inventor. Figures your room would be bigger.”

“Don’t forget ‘irresponsible playboy.’ And Jaeger pilot, thanks to you.”

There isn't much to look at, but Tony seems intrigued anyway, glancing around the room with curious eyes. Tony crosses to Bucky's desk and picks up the first book on the pile, flipping it open. _“An Illustrated History of Jaegers._ This a first edition?”

“Yeah. Steve got it for me.”

“Nice of him. First editions take ages to find.” Tony flips another few pages, humming to himself, and Bucky doesn’t miss the way those lips purse in fascination. “These are really beautiful.”

Bucky nods in agreement. The book is full of tech specs, but it's the art that Bucky loves. Sketches, paintings, beautiful photos, all of Jaegers. It seems like it captivates Tony just as much. Bucky sits down on the side of his bed, watching, his eyes trained on Tony’s hands as he flips the pages one by one.

“I’ve been staring at the ceiling for an hour trying to find a way to describe what this feels like,” Tony starts, not looking away from the page. “This _thing._ My reaction to the drift, I guess. It’s - I don’t know - it’s like I could keep reaching and reaching and never find what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I _need_ it. Does that make any sense?”

It makes all the sense in the world. Bucky nods. “That’s how I feel, too.”

Tony sets the book down slowly, then turns to meet Bucky's eyes. “Is there a way to make it better?”

“Only one thing that's ever worked for me.”

“And what is that?”

“Contact.”

Tony breathes out, and that line between his brows grows more pronounced. “Is that… Would you want to - ha. Why is this so hard to say?”

“Isn’t exactly a normal thing to ask.” Bucky pats the edge of the bed. “C’mere.”

Bucky scoots up onto the mattress, leaving room for Tony to sit back against him. Tony searches his eyes, unsure, then follows Bucky onto the bed, sitting just far enough away that they aren’t actually touching. Bucky shifts forward, and finally their bodies connect. Tony’s back presses into Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s legs are on either side of Tony’s. Bucky’s arms slide around to Tony’s waist, one hand resting on Tony’s abdomen, the other on his chest.

“This okay?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, his voice soft. “Yeah, that - that helps a lot.”

“Good.” Bucky lets his chin rest on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony sighs, his body relaxing.

 _Hell._ Tony is so warm and pliant. He fits perfectly in Bucky's arms, snug and safe, like he's always belonged there. This is the only way they work. Together. Bucky can't help it; with Tony up against him, it's so _easy_ to imagine a world where they're never apart. Of course, that's ridiculous. Unrealistic. But the more hours that pass, the more their connection solidifies in Bucky's mind. Two halves of a whole. For the first time since the simulation, Bucky doesn't feel empty at all.

“Why is it like this?” Tony shifts closer, and Bucky swallows down the satisfied noise that tries to rise in his throat. “I know the drift is powerful, but I’ve never heard of anyone having this kind of reaction before.”

“Dunno.” Bucky closes his eyes, the smell of Tony’s shampoo licking his nostrils. That might actually kill him, but there's no way he's letting go, not when he's finally found his balance. “Strong connection, I guess. Does different things to different people.”

Silence engulfs them, and then he feels Tony's weight sag against him. Bucky smiles. Tony is asleep on him, and damn if that doesn't make him like Tony more. _Must've been tired._ Come to think of it, Bucky's tired, too.

Bucky doesn't remember falling asleep; but when he wakes, he's lying in his bed, and Tony is wrapped up in his arms.

_Shit._

They’re still dressed, Bucky in his pajamas and Tony in his sweats, and as much of a relief as that is, Bucky still wishes for several more layers of fabric between them. He can feel the heat of Tony’s body under his palms. His nose is buried in Tony’s hair, and Tony smells _so good,_ that scent tugging at something primal in Bucky’s back-brain. There’s an uncontrollable part of him that wants _fewer_ layers instead of more, because wouldn’t it be incredible just to feel skin on skin, to touch and kiss and-

_Stop it._

Tony shifts just slightly in his sleep, and Bucky suppresses a groan. Having Tony this close is intoxicating. Overwhelming. More than a little arousing. Bucky tries to pull his arms away, but Tony doesn't budge.

“Tony,” Bucky says in Tony's ear. Tony moves, and Bucky manages to slide his arms out from around Tony, sitting up. “Tony,” Bucky says again, louder this time.

Tony stirs, rolling onto his back and blinking slowly awake. “Hey, Buckaroo.” That rough voice sends a shiver up Bucky’s spine.

“Hey.” It’s all Bucky can get out at first. His body is practically screaming at him, the compulsion to _keep touching_ almost too powerful to tolerate. He takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “We fell asleep.”

Tony looks around and sits up. “Oh. Shit.” He drags a hand through his hair, and Bucky _loves_ that, loves the way it makes a few strands stand on end. “I - were we sleeping together? I mean, not sleeping together, but - you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

Tony frowns, covering his mouth briefly with his hand. “I think I liked it.”

“Tony.” He can’t say things like that, not when Bucky’s working so hard to pretend that he _didn’t_ like it and _doesn’t_ want to do it again.

“I’m serious. I haven’t slept that well in - I don’t know if I’ve ever slept that well.” Tony stretches his arms above his head, then ruffles his hair a second time. That's just too much, too adorable and _sexy._ Bucky forces himself to look away.

“Hey. What’s the matter?”

Tony asks it like it’s not a big deal, like they haven’t just woken up accidentally tangled up in each other.

“Nothin’,” Bucky says, hating how unconvincing it sounds. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Tony scoots closer, and for some incomprehensible reason, he rests a hand on Bucky’s cheek. Bucky reaches up a second too late to stop him, grabbing Tony’s wrist only after Tony’s hand touches his skin.

“ _Tony_.” Bucky holds Tony’s gaze for a tense moment, but Tony doesn’t let go. He strokes Bucky’s cheekbone with his thumb, and Bucky clenches his jaw. Slowly, Tony’s other hand comes up and tucks a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. That whisper of sensation undoes all of Bucky’s tension like a quick-release knot, the whole structure of the thing collapsing with a single pull. His shoulders go slack; his jaw relaxes, lips parting softly.

“Serious question,” Tony murmurs, searching Bucky’s face. “Does being drift partners mean we can’t be anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

Tony’s expression changes, and Bucky can tell he’s about to argue with him. Bucky heads him off.

“Tony, we ain’t known each other more than a couple days.”

“So what? There are people I’ve known for years that I still can’t stand.” Tony runs his thumb along Bucky’s cheek again, and Bucky sighs, leaning ever so slightly into the touch. “That doesn’t seem like a good enough reason to me.”

That’s because it isn’t. Bucky has seen inside Tony’s head. He knows Tony’s mind, knows what he hates, what he loves, what he wants more than anything else in the world. Bucky and Tony aren’t strangers, not really. Argument invalid.

“You sure it’s not just the drift? You sure I’m what you want?” It sounds so stupid to Bucky’s ears, so vulnerable, but he has to ask it, has to know that it’s a _choice_ and not just something Tony has fallen into.

Tony shakes his head. “I’ve been interested in you since the first time we met. And we’re _so_ compatible. It can’t just be a coincidence. It has to mean something.”

Bucky doesn’t disagree. But there’s still a part of him - maybe a part that HYDRA put there - that questions whether or not something like this can be anything but bad. “This doesn’t scare you?”

“Honestly? It’s terrifying. But so was the first time I stepped into a Jaeger, and that turned out to be pretty incredible, right?”

“Right.” Bucky stares, heart pounding, skin on fire where Tony is still touching him. He breathes in as if to speak, then stops himself, because suddenly he can’t remember the words. All he knows is what he feels. He wants, and he hopes, and he _yearns,_ his whole body charged with it.

Brown eyes flash with impatience. Tony’s fingers slide to the back of Bucky’s neck, thumbs tight against Bucky’s jaw, and then Tony pulls him down, sealing their mouths together in a kiss.

_Fucking hell._

That’s what a kiss is supposed to feel like; not perfunctory or forced, but _necessary,_ like the world will stop if Bucky pulls away. Tony’s lips are soft and insistent, that edge of impatience just barely there. Tony’s tongue traces the seam of Bucky's mouth, and Bucky opens to him, groaning at that hot, slick slide. Damn, but Tony tastes good.

Tony crawls up onto Bucky’s lap and straddles his hips, tangling his hands in Bucky’s hair. _Shit._ Tony’s body plastered to Bucky’s makes it difficult to breathe, and damn near impossible to think. All Bucky can do is press tighter and kiss harder. His hands slide up under Tony’s shirt, finally touching skin, the heat impossible, the contact sending sparks through his fingers. Tony’s hips arch forward, and Bucky moans into Tony’s mouth, his hands suddenly grasping and needy-

From the corner of the room, the alarm bell shrieks, shocking them apart.

Tony pulls away first, breathing hard, his hands not moving from where they've landed on Bucky’s shoulders. Even with the bright blue strobe light flashing, it takes Bucky several seconds to process what that alarm actually means, because his lap is still full of Tony, and if only they could just _keep kissing._

“Shit,” Bucky huffs, moving his hands slowly down Tony’s back, lingering on Tony’s skin before drawing away. “That alarm for us?”

Tony looks like he really doesn't want to answer. He bites his lip, letting out a frustrated breath. “Yep. That's for us.”

~

It takes another minute for Tony to move from Bucky’s lap. Bucky mourns the loss of contact, but somehow resists the urge to pull Tony back onto the bed.

“I should go grab my tech gear,” Tony says, hovering near the door. “I’ll, uh. I’ll meet you there?”

“Alright.”

Tony hesitates, then turns and leaves. Bucky drops his head into his hands.

_Called into combat. Of course._

Bucky trundles into the bathroom and turns on the sink, splashing cold water onto his face. _Get a grip, Barnes. Focus._ He rifles through his dresser until he finds his clean tech gear. He doesn’t need more than thirty seconds to change - twenty of those are spent adjusting the fabric, making sure it’s seated right on his arms and legs - and then he slips on his socks and his boots, marching quickly out the door.

He beats Tony to the control room, the lights already on as he steps inside. A tired-looking Bruce Banner sits at the control booth, and an agitated Nick Fury drums his fingers on the table near the windows. Natasha stands off to the side. Footsteps behind him - Steve files in along with his new partner, Sam Wilson. Clint Barton trails behind.

Bucky knows Barton, even though they've never officially met. He’s had his picture in the papers, always alongside Natasha’s. Best sharpshooter in the Jaeger program. Originally based in South America. Partnered off early. Five kills, with limited Jaeger damage. Bucky assumes that sling he's wearing is a leftover from his last fight.

Wilson is still mostly a mystery. His previous experience comes from the Military, that much is easy enough to guess just by the way he walks. Bucky can't help but make snap judgments; it's just part of his programming. And his snap judgment on Wilson is that he's under-qualified.

Still. If Steve has agreed to be his partner, maybe there's more to him. Maybe there's something else that makes him an asset to the team. Fury always has his reasons for choosing people. Bucky just hopes they're good ones.

Tony finally walks through the door, bright-eyed and sharp. His beard is perfectly trimmed, his hair freshly-washed - how had he had time to shower? - and styled. There’s no evidence at all that fifteen minutes before, he’d had Bucky’s tongue down his throat. Bucky wonders if he looks as composed by comparison.

Tony crosses the room to stand next to Bucky, and Bucky tries hard not to let the smell of that shampoo distract him.

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep,” Fury starts, his voice reverberating off of the tile floor. “We have a situation that needs your immediate attention.” He inclines his head toward Bruce, who pulls up the holo-screen.

“Half an hour ago, we got a signature in the breach. Seemed normal. The Maximoff twins were next in rotation, so we deployed Igor.”

“But it's a category four.” All eyes land on Tony. “What? Don't look at me like that, of course I checked before I came up here. Not like I didn’t predict it anyway, if you all would _listen_ to me for once.”

“Stark, now is not the time-”

“He's right,” Bruce interrupts. “It's our first category four. This thing is - well. It’s a monster.”

Bruce pulls up the Kaiju’s specs. Head and shoulders taller than the last Kaiju. Heavier, too, with a skull shaped like a hammerhead shark. It looks mean. Mean and _enormous_.

“Igor isn't big enough to take that on alone,” Natasha says.

"I agree." Fury stops, clasping his hands together behind his back. “I’m low on personnel, and Barton is still recovering.”

“I’m fine,” Clint growls.

“You’re injured. And Rogers and Wilson are untested. I won’t put you in a machine when I don’t even know it’s going to stick.” Fury’s single eye swivels to stare them down. “That leaves us with Stark and Barnes.”

Bucky’s muscles tense, adrenaline filtering quickly into his veins. That’s the Asset, or as much of him as still exists. Always ready for a fight. Bucky glances over at Tony.

“What do you think?”

There's hardly any point in asking. They both want this. They're both ready.

Tony grins. “I think we should go kick some Kaiju ass.”

~

Fury sends them straight to the changing room to get suited up. Everything is automated now; Bucky steps in front of the mirror and mechanical arms appear out of nowhere, putting the armor together around him in less than a minute. It’s brand new, similar to the old design, but never been worn. Most people say that's better. No use in carrying the bad luck of old armor with you.

Bucky stares at his reflection, moving his arms, then his legs, testing the range of motion. It's perfect. Protective and sturdy, but still flexible. It doesn't look half bad, either, almost sparkling as it catches the light. Nothing like the plastic shit from the simulator.

“Wow.” Tony appears behind him, dressed in the same chrome-colored armor. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen the pictures, I knew it was going to look good on you, but… _Wow.”_

Bucky meets Tony’s eyes in the mirror. He's not sure he deserves that kind of praise. He doesn't look good so much as _lethal._  Armor always reminds him of the Asset. And even though he's killing for the right reasons, underneath it all, Bucky's still a killing machine.

Tony, though - Tony looks like a knight ready to slay a dragon. He ought to be on a poster the way he wears that armor, his jawline and cheekbones even more pronounced, his dark eyes alive and dangerous.

“Do you not like it?” Tony asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “It's better on you.”

Tony steps forward, circling around Bucky, scrutinizing him from every angle. “Huh. You really think so? Because this is the most badass thing I've ever seen.”

“It ain't all that.”

Tony's face grows serious. “I respectfully disagree.” He moves directly in front of Bucky, and something stirs in Bucky's veins at the stubborn set of Tony's jaw. “It suits you.”

Bucky wants to argue, but he's distracted by the unexpected press of Tony's lips on his. It doesn't last longer than a few seconds, but it's enough to make him forget all of his protests. “What was that for?”

“Luck,” Tony says easily. “That's what they do in the movies, right?”

“Right.”

Bucky's lips are still tingling as he follows Tony up the spiral staircase, helmet clutched in one hand as they make their way to the Jaeger’s head.

~

It’s been over a year since Bucky has actually set foot inside a Jaeger.

It's bigger than he remembers. Cavernous. He cranes his neck, looking up with what he's sure are admiring eyes. Heartbreaker isn't Howler; but damn if she isn't beautiful. She has her own aura. She has a presence, one that hangs from the walls and the ceiling. She's powerful and agile. She wants so badly to succeed.

_Perfect. She's perfect._

Planting his feet in the boot clips, Bucky can't help but feel nervous. Technically, he and Tony are compatible. They've drifted. But there are still so many unknowns. Things change when you’re inside a real Jaeger. The connection is stronger. The feedback is louder. The drift is deep and fathomless, darker than the ocean, the current fast and dangerous. When it works - when two pilots connect, perfectly in sync - it’s the most incredible feeling in the world. He shouldn't worry. With their connection, the chances of it not working are slim to none.

The way this dome is built, Jaegers have to be transported in pieces. The head drops from far above and connects with the body, and part of a pilot’s job is riding all the way down. Bucky and Tony are just waiting, and once they're set, it's a free fall.

Natasha checks the cords behind them, making sure the armor and the Jaeger are fully joined before tapping their helmets in turn. The mechanical door groans shut behind her as she leaves.

“You ready?” Tony asks.

“Yeah.” Bucky's more than ready. He needs this. His body aches for it. Finally back inside a Jaeger… It’s all he's ever wanted. “You?”

“Born ready.”

They're silent through the initiation sequence, and Bucky watches the panels light up one by one. His legs tremble in anticipation when he hears the hatch open, giant metal pieces creaking aside to give them a clear path straight down.

It's a long way. There are over a thousand feet between the hatch and the body of the Jaeger. Bucky braces himself as the bottom drops out from underneath them. Five seconds of weightlessness. Seven. Ten. Gravity kicks in, and there’s a jolt when they land, the head rotating around just once before Bucky hears the thunk of the locking mechanism securing them in place.

_“Pilot-to-pilot protocol engaged. Initiating neural handshake.”_

Bucky only gets a split second to think before the switch flips. Memories flash in front of him like slides on a stereoscope, moving faster and faster until everything’s a blur of color and noise. The entire world rushes past in the blink of an eye - and then, suddenly, Tony’s mind is anchored to his, and the drift opens up and swallows them whole.

_“Neural link established. Connection successful.”_

Bucky hears the words thunder in his ears, the echo strange and far away. The machine whispers inside his body. The arc-reactor thrums, energy warming him from his core all the way out to his heels and his fingertips. The simulator can't compare. There's heft and power underneath him, underneath _them._ There’s nothing else like it, nothing in the world.

Bucky looks over at Tony, and Tony blinds him with a dazzling, cheeky smile. God. Tony was made for this. Even inside that suit, he looks like this is exactly where he's meant to be. He _fits._

“You look good,” Bucky finds himself saying.

“So do you.”

Threads of attraction and desire tug at him from inside the drift. He meets Tony's eyes, and Tony doesn't back down.

 _You look_ really _good._

“Doors opening,” Bruce says over the comms. The massive doors in front of them start to part, water rushing in around the Jaeger’s feet as Bucky and Tony run through the calibration. Left hemisphere. Right hemisphere. “Okay, Heartbreaker. That ocean is all yours.”

~

Being in a Jaeger is the most incredible feeling in the world. Bucky’s suddenly tall enough to walk across the ocean, powerful enough to fight the biggest threat to humanity. That invincible feeling can be dangerous, especially for new pilots; they get too wrapped up in the strength of the machine, forgetting that Kaijus are just as big and just as dangerous. But Bucky and Tony have fought Kaijus before. They know the risks. They don’t have any illusions about how badly this kind of fight can end. And somehow they still want it more than anything.

“Igor,” Bruce says over the comms, “you have Heartbreaker inbound.”

Bucky and Tony spot the arc-reactor at the same time, glowing blue against the dark ocean and the sky. The Kaiju is still invisible from this distance, but with the enormous stride of a Jaeger, it won’t take them long to reach Igor’s position.

“Good of you to join us,” Pietro says, his voice sounding taxed.

“Sorry,” Tony replies, and Bucky sees him calculating the distance to the Kaiju as he speaks. “Took us a while to get dressed.”

“He’s dodging all our punches,” Wanda growls. “We’re holding our own, but we can’t bring him down ourselves.”

 _Good thing Fury sent us out,_ Tony thinks. They’re closing in, just fifteen paces from the fight. The Kaiju spots them ten steps out.

_Shit._

The Kaiju isn’t just big. It’s _fast._ It comes barreling at them full speed, and Heartbreaker just barely blocks the hit.

“Repulsors,” Tony says, and Heartbreaker’s left hand comes up, blasting the Kaiju back. It squeals, a terrible, high-pitched sound, then rounds on them again. This time they’re more prepared. Heartbreaker’s fist lands squarely on the Kaiju’s jaw, the impact rattling through its body. It makes that horrible sound again, then ducks down, plowing its head into Heartbreaker’s stomach. The Kaiju knocks the wind out of them, pushing Heartbreaker backward along the ocean floor. Shit. They can’t win with this thing using its size against them. Bucky brings Heartbreaker's right arm down, elbow slamming into the Kaiju’s head, and that forces the Kaiju back long enough for them to break free.

Suddenly Igor is in range, grabbing onto the Kaiju’s tail. The Kaiju turns on them, gigantic claws swiping at Igor’s chest. Bucky _knows_ how much that hurts. A pilot feels any damage done to a Jaeger; it’s unlike any other pain, made worse for the fact that you’re connected to the Jaeger through the drift. The Kaiju’s claws rend the metal, but thankfully the arc-reactor stays intact. Igor fires repulsor blasts in quick succession, like a machine gun, hammering the Kaiju hard. Bucky watches, waiting for the smoke to clear.

The Kaiju’s scaly skin is barely burned.

 _Repulsors aren’t going to work,_ Bucky thinks, concerned for the first time that they might not win this fight. _They’re not doin’ any damage._

 _You’re right. They’ll overheat before they even come close._ Tony growls in frustration. _This thing’s too big. We can’t just beat it dead, not even with two Jaegers._

Bucky closes his eyes for an instant, trying to think. He’s supposed to be the expert on Jaegers. Maybe not as much of an expert as Tony, but he knows enough, and in the fight, Bucky’s the more clear-headed of the two of them. Does he know anything that can help them? Igor is older, third generation; but that still means she’s equipped with modern weapons systems. Repulsors, rockets, cannons. Nothing so medieval as a spear or a sword. But Heartbreaker is old. First generation, rebuilt but fairly well preserved. Old enough to have her original set of weapons.

“Does Heartbreaker still have a sword?” Bucky asks aloud.

Tony perks up, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah. She does.”

“Let's use it.”

Tony grins. _I love the way you think._

The sword emerges from the left arm, metal pieces slotting into place. It’s not quite as long as Heartbreaker’s arm, probably to make it easier to wield, but it’ll definitely do the job.

“Hey, Igor,” Tony barks into the comms. “Can you give us an opening, here?”

“With pleasure,” Wanda says.

The Kaiju is still circling, looking at Heartbreaker like she’s something to eat. It’s almost as if the monster has forgotten all about Igor. Good. That gives them the advantage. Igor swings up from behind, metal arms sliding underneath the Kaiju’s arms and gripping hard, hauling it upward. The Kaiju twists its neck back. It struggles, but Igor holds fast, and that’s _exactly_ the opening they need.

Bucky and Tony draw the sword back and strike.

The blade cuts into the Kaiju’s neck, brutal and precise. The metal goes straight through. It cleaves scale and flesh and bone, opening the Kaiju’s enormous neck, driving through its skull and splitting it down the middle.

The Kaiju drops, and the ocean drags it down.

 _Holy shit._ Tony’s eyes are wide, and Bucky watches those lips curve into a smile. _That was fucking incredible._

Bucky’s not quite sure what happens next. The drift explodes, and Bucky can’t make sense of it all, but there’s satisfaction and adrenaline and pride and _so much more_ that it carries Bucky away.

“Confirmed kill. Heartbreaker, Igor, come back to the dome.”

Bruce’s voice is a faraway echo in Bucky’s ears, nothing compared to the roar of sound and color coming from the drift. It overwhelms him, and Bucky tries and fails to focus, his mind pulled in too many directions. Somehow, Tony’s still sharp, and he responds for them, his voice resonating through the drift, setting Bucky on fire.

“Copy that.”

~

The debrief takes no time at all. Bucky can't quite pay attention, still too high on the drift and the fight to comprehend much of anything. He can't track the conversation, except that he hears Tony say something about Kaijus learning Jaeger fight patterns, and then he gets distracted by the flush on Tony’s cheeks and the deep red of his lips.

When they're finished, Bucky follows Tony to the changing room, thankful that he doesn't have to remove this armor himself. Even so, it somehow takes Bucky longer to change; he struggles with his civilian clothes, the fatigue pants refusing to fit over his feet, the sweater catching on his hair before he can tug it over his head. Finally, he's presentable, and he opens the curtain, finding Tony waiting for him.

Tony is dressed in worn jeans and a hoodie that's a little too big. Bucky's first impulse is to use those oversized pockets to drag Tony closer, and damn if the drift doesn't shoot his impulse control straight to hell. He slips his hands into the pockets and tugs, pulling Tony toward him.

Tony rests his hands on Bucky's forearms, looking up at him with dark eyes. “That was one hell of a fight, gorgeous. We make a good team.”

“Yeah. We do.”

Tony tilts his chin up, and Bucky can’t force himself not to see it as an invitation. He leans down before he can stop himself, bringing their lips together, and Tony lets out a small noise. _Damn._ Bucky’s never felt anything like this. Tony’s lips fit against his like they’re made for it, silky and soft, the connection electric. It’s perfect, and Tony is so good at it; his tongue steals inside Bucky's mouth, and Bucky starts to lose coherent thought, his blood racing south.

“Hmm.” Tony bites down on Bucky’s lower lip, making Bucky groan. “You taste really good.”

“So do you.” Bucky moves his hands to Tony's waist and kisses him again, gradually walking them backward until Tony is up against the wall. Bucky braces his weight on either side of Tony, palms against the concrete, then leans forward to let their hips slot together.

 _“Oh."_ Tony arches up into the contact and tries to pull Bucky closer, hand on the back of Bucky’s neck.

Bucky gives in, letting their lips meet, rocking his hips gently into Tony’s. Even with all that fabric between them, Bucky can still feel Tony’s hard length against him, and that small amount of friction is incredible.

Too soon Tony pulls away. “Come back to my room with me.”

There’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind _exactly_ what that invitation means. He drops a soft kiss at the corner of Tony’s mouth.

“Okay.”

~

Tony's right. His room _is_ bigger than Bucky's. He has space enough for a queen bed, and there are shelves upon shelves lining the walls, showing off little robots and pieces of tech. It looks like an in-between place, like Tony probably doesn't spend much time here.

“Do you want some coffee or anything?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Too much adrenaline today. Don’t think my heart could take it.”

Tony smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, I’m way too wired for coffee. I just wanted to offer because - well, honestly, because I’m nervous as hell and I didn’t know what else to say.” Tony bites his lip, looking suddenly more serious. “I don’t want to jump into this too fast… Except that I really, _really_ do. It’s-”

“Conflicting?”

“Yeah.” Tony takes a tentative step closer. “Is this how it’s gonna be? Are we already an old married couple finishing each other’s sentences?”

“That’s sort of how the drift works.”

There it is again, that frown line between Tony’s brows. Bucky reaches out, tracing it with his thumb, finally erasing the tension with a gentle touch. Tony’s eyes flutter closed.

“Been wantin’ to do that for ages.” Bucky lets his fingers trail down the side of Tony’s face, then slides them into the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck, drawing him forward. This kiss is soft, gentle, sweet enough that Tony sighs against Bucky’s lips.

Bucky could do this for hours. Every time he kisses Tony, it’s something different, a new exploration of the same territory. It makes his nerves sing, his toes and his fingertips lighting up with sensation, his cock growing hard with the barest hint of Tony’s tongue in his mouth. Tony is intoxicating, overwhelming. Bucky’s been high on him since that first kiss.

There’s such a fine line between sweet and _hot,_ and they cross it without meaning to, Tony’s hands tangling in Bucky’s hair, Bucky reaching around to palm Tony’s ass. That brings their hips flush together, and Bucky’s sure Tony can feel how much Bucky wants him, how _ready_ Bucky is. Tony pulls away, hands sliding down to Bucky’s shoulders, fingers gripping gently at Bucky’s sweater.

“Come to bed with me?” Tony asks, less sure than he’d been when he’d invited Bucky to his room.

The breath leaves Bucky’s body, and he nods. “Yes.”

~

It's not hard for Bucky to track what Tony's thinking as he steps back, unlacing his boots. Clothes are a hindrance. Better to start without any.

That doesn't make Bucky any less nervous as he works on his own boots, leaving them in a pile with his socks next to the door. He blinks when Tony dims the lights, and then Bucky stops, mesmerized, as Tony peels off his shirt and drops it to the floor.

Damn, but Tony is beautiful.

Bucky's gaze wanders over the planes of Tony's chest. That scar is striking, captivating Bucky's attention. The center looks like a brand that hasn't quite kept its shape. Thin white lines extend out in every direction, crisscrossing each other until they fade and disappear.

Bucky looks up, meeting Tony's eyes. “Can I touch it?”

Tony’s voice is barely a whisper. “Yeah.”

Bucky steps up close, metal palm coming up to rest on the white knot of skin, and Tony’s eyes flutter closed. “Does it hurt?”

“No.”

Before he knows quite what he’s doing, Bucky leans down and replaces his hand with his mouth, dropping slow, soft kisses on Tony's chest. He grazes the damaged skin with his teeth, then soothes it with his tongue, feeling Tony’s body shudder.

“Ah. Okay, I really need us both to be wearing a lot less.”

Bucky can’t help but imagine what that looks like. He wants to see more, wants his hands on as much of Tony as Tony will let him have.

“Come on, gorgeous,” Tony says, eager hands finding the waistband of Bucky’s fatigue pants, making quick work of the fastenings and sliding them to the floor. That’s enough to make Bucky move again, and he reaches back, grabbing at the collar of his sweater and pulling it over his head. This time, when Bucky looks up, Tony is naked, and the sweater slips from Bucky’s fingers, because _damn_ if that isn’t an incredible sight.

“Off,” Tony insists. Bucky smiles at Tony’s impatience, his lips parting when Tony relieves him of his boxers in a single fluid motion.

“Oh.”

Tony steps even closer, their cocks bumping together, and that’s a sensation Bucky hasn’t felt in a long time. Bucky moans, almost entirely soundless, but Tony doesn’t seem to notice, his eyes darting over Bucky’s metal shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” Tony asks, looking up into Bucky’s face.

“No.”

Tony’s hand moves tentatively, his thumb touching one of the many scars on Bucky’s side. The angry marks sweep toward Bucky’s shoulder, and Tony follows this scar all the way to the place where flesh and metal meet. “Wow.”

Bucky breathes in, then sighs, shaky on the exhale.

Tony pauses. “That okay?”

“Yeah.” Bucky swallows, turning his head to watch Tony’s hand. “Feels good.”

“I’m gonna need another name for you. Gorgeous doesn’t do you justice.”

“You’re sorta biased.” Bucky manages to say it without his voice breaking. “Tech turns you on.”

“I promise, it’s not just the tech.” Tony tilts his chin up and seeks out Bucky’s lips, leading him into a languid kiss that starts out too soft and ends with Tony hooking one leg around Bucky's waist. Bucky's hands slide down to Tony's ass, and it's almost too easy for him to lift Tony up, letting Tony wrap both legs around him as he leads them back toward the bed.

Bucky draws the moment out forever. He lays Tony out on the mattress, Tony’s head the last thing to drop back onto the sheets, metal hand still cradling Tony’s neck. Bucky pulls back, letting Tony shift further up toward the pillows, and then Bucky’s eyes take him in, admiring the way that lithe body looks spread out underneath him.

Damn. Everything about Tony is beautiful. His legs. His hips. His cock. Feeling a sudden need to _touch_ and _taste,_ Bucky leans down, nuzzling at Tony's navel. He travels lower, lips finding Tony's hip, then his inner thigh. Tony shifts, whimpering, and Bucky gives in, leaving long, soft kisses along Tony's cock, then licking a stripe from base to tip.

“Oh shit. You're gonna make me come like a teenager if you do that,” Tony gasps.

Bucky lifts his head, moving further up Tony's body to kiss along his jaw. “Lube?” he asks softly.

“Bedside table drawer.”

Bucky grabs the lube, then shifts his attention to Tony’s neck, nibbling at his pulse-point, sucking at the sensitive skin.

“Do you - um. God _damn_ it, that's distracting.” Tony laughs nervously. “Sorry. I'm sorry, I don't-”

“D’you want this the other way around?” Bucky asks, suddenly worried he's made the wrong assumption.

 _“No,_ " Tony says, emphatic enough that Bucky pulls back to look at him. “No, it's not that. I _really_ want you to top. It's just… It's been a long time.”

“Been a long time for me too.”

Tony surprises him, tucking a strand of hair behind Bucky’s ear, the gesture almost _tender._ Bucky holds Tony’s gaze, and something passes between them, but Bucky isn’t sure what. He only knows that the look in Tony’s eyes makes it hard to breathe.

Bucky drops the bottle beside them on the bed, and then his hand is between Tony's legs, one finger circling Tony's hole, gently breaching his entrance.

Tony arches, eyes closed, mouth open. “Mmh,” Tony groans, looking goddamn near perfect with his hair falling into his face.

Bucky gives him a minute to adjust, then eases a second finger past that tight ring of muscle. He waits for Tony to relax, the tension slowly leaving Tony's face, then moves both fingers in tandem, gently scissoring him open. Tony’s breath catches, and then brown eyes open, heavy-lidded.

“Okay?” Bucky asks.

 _“God,_ yes.”

Bucky slips a third finger inside, feeling Tony tighten around him, watching the rapid rise and fall of Tony’s chest.

There's a needy edge to Tony's voice when he speaks again. “Ahh. Gorgeous, that's _so good_.”

Bucky moves his fingers in and out, spreading and stretching, watching Tony’s expressions shift. Hell. That’s enough to make him come right there. He's not sure how much longer he can-

“Okay, okay, that's good. I'm good.”

Bucky draws his fingers out of Tony slowly, groaning, clinging to the remains of his shredded self-control. Fuck, he's _so hard_ , he's worried he’ll go off like a shot after two seconds inside that tight heat. What comes after this? Arousal clouds his mind, but his body remembers, reaching back into that drawer. Condom. Right. And more lube. He just barely manages both, his fingers fumbling and unsteady.

“Bucky. You okay?”

Bucky’s eyes flick up, and he nods, not sure how to explain that he’s rapidly losing his capacity to think. He sets the lube aside, metal hand steady even when his flesh hand trembles, then lines himself up, swallowing hard when his cock presses up against Tony’s entrance.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Tony whispers, lifting his hips and spreading his legs wider as Bucky leans over him.

Tony’s fingers curl into Bucky's hair, and Bucky braces his hands against the mattress, bunching up the sheets as he pushes slowly inside. Tony exhales beneath him, then takes in a shaky breath; Bucky feels him struggling to relax before giving up and arching greedily, forcing Bucky in too hard and too fast until his hips are flush with Tony’s ass.

 _“Fuck_ ,” Bucky wheezes.

His whole body is tense, taut as a bowstring; his thighs quiver, biceps flexing hard as he gathers more fabric into his hands, half worried he’s going to tug the sheets all the way off the bed. He drops his forehead onto Tony’s, breathing out slowly through his nose.

“Need a minute,” he says, because _damn it_ , Tony is so tight and so perfect, he almost can’t take it.

Tony whines, hands tugging lightly at the roots of Bucky’s hair. After another deep breath, Bucky’s body starts to settle. He pulls halfway out and presses in again, and Tony gasps. “More. Please.”

Bucky nods, powerless to argue. He sets up a slow rhythm, and Tony breathes out on a small, soft noise with every roll of Bucky’s hips until his impatience gets the better of him.

“Gorgeous, I need - I need you to go faster.”

“Okay.” Bucky holds Tony’s gaze and thrusts hard and fast, burying himself even deeper. Tony cries out, and Bucky takes hold of his jaw, his touch gentle, not letting Tony look away. “Like that?”

“Yes. _Yes_ , please - oh fuck.”

Bucky draws back and snaps his hips forward, and this time Tony screws his eyes shut, a keening noise pulled from his throat. There are tears in Tony’s eyes when they open, and one hand moves to grip Bucky’s metal shoulder, the other still tangled in his hair.

“Do that again.”

Bucky takes Tony’s hand and pins it down to the bed, metal fingers closed loosely around his wrist. “Ask nicely,” Bucky whispers, watching Tony’s eyes grow wide and dark.

“Please,” Tony begs. “Please please _please_ , do that again. Just like that. Please.”

Bucky laces metal fingers with Tony’s, still holding his hand against the mattress, and then he’s driving into Tony like his life depends on it, the punishing rhythm dragging him quickly toward the edge. Sweat beads on his brow, pleasure radiating outward from the pit of his stomach and crawling up his spine.

 _Damn it._ He's already too close. He should slow down, he should-

“Don't you dare stop,” Tony says hoarsely.

“Tony. I can't-”

“I know. I know. I can't either. Just - ah - _please_ don't stop.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees, his voice an octave too low. He thrusts again, changing his angle just slightly, and Tony all but _howls._

Bucky can't help himself, not when Tony makes sounds like that. The pressure builds, and it barely takes four more strokes, hard and deep, before Bucky's trembling with the effort of holding back. _“Tony._ ”

“Fuck. Oh fuck, Bucky, I'm _so close_.”

“Me too.” It's all Bucky can manage, his hands gripping hard, his rhythm starting to falter.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Tony gasps, tilting his head back. “Bucky. Please. I need-”

Bucky wraps his metal hand around Tony’s cock, and Tony cries out, arching into the touch.

That's it - that's all Tony needs, and suddenly he's coming in spurts, nails raking over Bucky's shoulders, Bucky's name tumbling from his lips over and over and over until it's too much. The blissed-out look on Tony's face, the sound of his own name echoing in his ears - _fuck_.

Bucky makes a desperate noise low in his throat, because he's _so close_ and damn if Tony isn't the most fucking _beautiful_ thing he's ever seen. The heat around him grows impossibly tight, and Bucky chokes on a moan, thrusting just once before he comes undone, his world reduced to one man and one word as everything explodes.

His orgasm shudders through him, each spasm wringing a cry from his throat until he’s hoarse. Bucky empties himself into Tony, his muscles shaking, lips parted, eyes shut.

~

It takes Bucky a long time to catch his breath. He rests his forehead against Tony’s, opening his eyes. “You okay?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah. You?”

Bucky nods.

Tony leans up and kisses him, threading his fingers through Bucky's hair. “You can lie on me, you know. I promise you're not too heavy.”

Bucky lifts his head, stretching into Tony’s touch. “How about we switch, instead?” Bucky shifts, pulling out slowly, trying to be as gentle as he can. He ties the condom off and tosses it into the small wastebasket, then rolls over onto his back. Bucky smiles as Tony curls into him, Tony’s head resting on his chest, covering some of his scars.

“You smell good,” Bucky murmurs, nuzzling Tony’s hair.

Tony presses closer. “Hmm. Glad you think so.” Tony kisses Bucky’s chest, and one hand comes to rest on Bucky’s abdomen, calloused fingers tracing absent circles over Bucky’s skin. “I don’t want to say something and ruin it, but… This is sort of perfect.”

“Doesn’t ruin it,” Bucky says.

“Thank god.”

Bucky gets the impression that Tony’s thankful for _more_ than not ruining the moment. There’s so much profound relief in that statement, but Bucky doesn’t want to read too much into it, doesn’t want to let himself get carried away. He closes his eyes, comforted by the steady rise and fall of Tony’s chest against his side.

Tony’s right. This is sort of perfect.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: It turns out that this story will need three chapters in order to wrap everything up. Check out my [tumblr](https://sopherfly.tumblr.com) for updates on this fic and other things I'm writing.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: For the purposes of this fic, "chasing the rabbit" is how I will refer to the movie's referenced "Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers." Jaeger designs and names are based on the suits from Iron Man III. Jaegers are built like suits, powered by large Arc Reactors. "Howler" is a nod to the Howling Commandos. Story is set in the era of category 3 and category 4 Kaijus.


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